Tuesday, May 28, 2013

VERY SUPERSTITIOUS, WRITING'S ON THE WALL

Ladders, mirrors, umbrellas and pennies: America has some interesting (and sometimes confounding) superstitions. However, in recent discussions with my third year students it's become clear that Japan is host to equally, if not more, strange beliefs.  Here are several that I thought worth sharing:
  • Don't kill spiders in the morning. Morning spiders are considered good luck, and if you kill them, you are essentially squashing your luck for the day.
  • Don't sleep with your head facing north.  Only the dead are positioned northward.  I have had teachers check to make sure that my bed in the apartment is facing the right way.
  • Whistling at night attracts snakes.
  • Sticking your chopsticks upright in a bowl of rice signifies death.
  • If you find shed snake skin and put it in your wallet, money will come to you. 
  • The numbers 4 and 9 are unlucky; 4 can be pronounced the same way as the word "death" in Japanese, and 9 means "pain."
    • On a related note, there are also particular ages that are considered terribly unlucky, called yakudoshi
  • If you lose your teeth, there are a couple of rituals to follow: top teeth should be thrown up in the air; bottom teeth should be buried.
  • When making a donation at the local shrine, you should give 25 yen.  The 2 means "double," and the 5 (go yen, or goen) means "relationship" [with god].  Never give 10 yen, or toen, as toen means "far" [from god].
  • Black cats are good luck.  
  • If you cut your nails at night, you won't be with your parents when they die.
  • When you hear thunder, cover your navel, or you'll have bad luck.
  • If you play with fire, you'll wet the bed at night. 
My favorite is: if you lie down right after eating, you will turn into a cow.  Moooo. 

Friday, May 24, 2013

STATUS UPDATES

One of the things I love most about living in Japan is the interactions I have with my students and fellow teachers.  And every so often, there's an incident that I feel compelled to share on Facebook.  Here are some of the latest and greatest:

First years had a quiz in which they had to write a short self introduction. Some winners:


"My parsonalty [personality] is silent." 

"I belong to the take pictures club. I am Lazy."

And, lest you ever felt self-conscious about your extracurricular choices in high school (brass band, drama club, mathletes, etc.), fear not.  From one student: "My hobby is practicing an abucus [sic] called "soroban" in Japan."  

Best party trick ever. 

-------

As I walked into school this morning, one of my favorite students rushed up to me, flailing her arms, saying, "Did you hear the news?!" Thinking something wonderful had happened to her, I asked what was up. "Maybe Justin and Selena got married!" she said, breathless. It took me almost a full minute to realize she meant Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez.

-------

Today second years studied the expression "It's all Greek to me." They were asked to write a short dialogue using the expression. Two girls wrote:

A: I want to go abroad this summer, but I'm worried.
B: Why are you worried?
A: Because it's all English to me!

-------

Foreign policy granny crowed to me last night about a return she got on a recent investment. I asked what she had invested in. "Dollars!" she said. "You mean you bought dollars?" I asked, a little shocked. "Yes! I bought dollars at 84 yen, and now it is 100 yen! Abe is great!"

I'm glad that she's getting joy from my pain.

-------

Was informed today that one of the teachers at my school harbors a dream of braiding my hair. That's a first.

-------

Second years were asked to give their advice on a number of problems. The prompt: I see my boyfriend talking a lot to a girl at our school. He says they are just friends, but I'm worried that he likes her more than me. What should I do?

Student's answer: "I think that she should have him fall in love more. For that, I think that she should make an effort. And then, let's grip his stomach with her dish!"

HUSH, HASHIMOTO

Lately (since the naissance of my political consciousness during the second Bush administration) I have despaired of American politics.  There are days when I read the news or watch clips from C-SPAN that the words of West Wing press secretary CJ Cregg leaving a particularly hostile press conference echo in my head: "Set fire to the room. Do it now."  

As suspect as I find most people involved in the sausage factory that is the legislative process, I take solace in the fact that Americans are not alone in being governed by those with questionable agendas.  Case in point: Toru Hashimoto, the mayor of Osaka.  Hashimoto-san is currently stumping for the election of members of his party, Nippon Ishin no Kai (Japan Restoration Party), to the upper house of the Japanese Diet.  Last week he made waves when he was quoted as saying that comfort women were "necessary" during World War II.  If you aren't familiar with the story of comfort women, here it is in a nutshell: imperialist Japan raided Korea and Manchuria in the early 20th century, and as part of their conquest, pressed local women into sexual slavery and placed them at the disposal of the Japanese military.  The argument at the time was that soldiers needed a reprieve from the war.  Since then, the practice has been slammed by human rights groups, women's groups, and multiple foreign governments.  In 1965 the Japanese government paid $364 million in reparations to South Korea, and in 1993 the Japanese government issued an official apology.  


Toru Hashimoto.  From www.shopgisreports.com
Hashimoto's lenient views of Japanese history and his assertions that American soldiers based in Okinawa should avail themselves of the local sex trade to let off steam have landed him in scalding hot water.  Groups representing women and human rights have lined up to denounce his remarks, as have surviving comfort women, the U.S. State Department, the governments of China and South Korea, and even the mayor of San Francisco, where Hashimoto is slated to make a visit in the upcoming weeks.  Japanese politicians have taken pains to distance themselves from Hashimoto as well; many leaders have criticized Hashimoto and called for him to retract his statements.  Nippon Ishin's ally, Your Party, announced that it would no longer be cooperating with them in the Diet elections, citing "different values."  Even Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has been pressured to respond; in the past, Abe has denied that women were forced or coerced into wartime prostitution.  

I raised this topic with my favorite panel of Japanese experts, the grannies.  I thought we'd all have a good eye roll at the expense of politicians and the impolitic things they say, but as usual, they surprised me.  

Beatles Granny started off by saying that there were no records that the Japanese military had employed sex slaves.  (I looked this up; this is debatable. There are records of the women who later testified to being raped, though the women are often listed as "nurses" attached to Army units.)  Granny Granny spoke up and said that in some cases, like in Korea, local businessmen willingly offered women to Japanese soldiers (no doubt as a form of appeasement).  Her take seemed to be, "Don't be angry with us for something you facilitated and organized." 

Lone Grandpa was especially vehement.  He kept saying that no one was mad at Germany now that World War II was over, and that even the US and Japan could be friends, so why can't China and Korea let go this issue of comfort women?  He argued that the notion of human rights did not yet exist during World War II, and that it is unfair to view Japanese actions in a revisionist light.  Moreover, everyone was horrible during World War II.  Why are the Japanese continually singled out, as opposed to the Germans or the Russians?

Lone Grandpa also introduced the issue of Yasukuni Shrine.  Yasukuni honors those who fought in Japan's wars, including individuals who are considered war criminals.  Every time a politician visits the Yasukuni Shrine to pay homage, it incurs the wrath of the Chinese and the South Koreans.  To calm relations, the Japanese make some sort of grand diplomatic gesture, such as welcoming Chinese and Korean teachers to visit Japan for a time.  Things then normalize, and everyone goes back to being copacetic until the next visit to Yasukuni.  Lone Grandpa referred to this over and over again as "blackmail." He said that 68 years later, the Japanese are still paying compensation for World War II in some form or another.  LG's uncle died in a kamikaze attack in Okinawa, and for him, paying respect to his uncle's memory at the Yasukini Shrine is important.  He is indignant that any foreign power would criticize what he views as a domestic affair, deeming it a private tradition.  
Yasukuni Shrine. From commons.wikimedia.org
The group was of two opinions concerning what should be done in the future regarding Japan's stance on comfort women.  One side said that Abe should be stronger and tell China and South Korea to let it go and get over it.  The other side said that Abe needs to be smarter and not provoke China and South Korea by allowing Japanese politicians to continue airing these issues.  Personally, I doubt Abe will do much of anything.  He's too jingoistic to kowtow to China and South Korea (particularly when Japan is at odds with these countries over territory), but he also can't needlessly provoke two economically powerful neighbors.  And since Abe was chastised for antagonizing China and South Korea during his first, short-lived stint as prime minister in 2006-2007, he's probably trying to keep a lower profile this time around, primarily focusing on reviving Japan's economy.   

The last word in the discussion came from Beatles Granny, who said, "The Chinese and the South Koreans don't like Japan. And you know what, I don't like them either!"  

So much for postwar harmony.  

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

TRAVELS IN THAILAND

Since my trip to Vietnam in March, it's occurred to me that maybe Japan has ruined me on international travel.  In two years I've grown accustomed to order, safety, politeness, quiet, and surgical-grade cleanliness in public spaces.  The problem is, the destinations I find most compelling are decidedly the inverse of the things that make Japan such a great haven.  After the debacle that was Vietnam, I was concerned that I might start limiting myself to the Swedens and Canadas of the world, simply to avoid being cajoled, hassled and discomfited.  In fact, the prospect of my trip to Thailand at the end of April made me anxious.  

It turns out, there's a lot to like about Thailand.  Children go to school instead of begging in the streets, and when school is over, they hang out at mom or dad's work or play with their friends. They have childhoods, in other words.  The majority of people seem to have a decent standard of living (or at least smartphones and tablet computers).  The streets are clean, free of litter, feces, or rotting foods.  Ditto on cleanliness in public toilets, which 95% of the time offer soap and toilet paper.  

Thai people know a lot about their culture and their history, and they are eager to share it with farangs (foreigners).  Day 1 in Bangkok we were stopped three times by strangers, all men.  They peppered us with questions: Where are you going? What will you do? How long are you in Bangkok? We were wary at first of their interest; experience had taught us that there is usually a catch (often monetary) to this kind of unsolicited friendliness.  We tried to be vague in our answers, but they pushed ahead, unfurling our map and pointing to places of interest, telling us what time we should visit these sites, and what we should see.  Towards the end they'd advise us on how much we should pay for rides around town and gave us tips on how to negotiate with drivers.  Then they'd give us a friendly wave and say, "Have a good day!" No money changed hands. 

Thailand is a sensory experience.  It's hot, so hot that we easily drank (and sweat out) a couple of liters of water a day.  The streets smell of garlands of jasmine being sold at temples, or vast vats of curries and stir-fries blistering with chilies simmering on the sidewalk. We saw exotic temples and giant Buddhas, elephants and monkeys, warriors and dancers, caves and crumbling ancient walls, and surfaces glittering and gilded. Here I want to give a shout out to the Grand Palace in Bangkok. It was, literally, one of the most dazzling places I've ever been...and I made the pilgrimage to Graceland.  Every centimeter is crusted with rhinestones, mosaics of brightly-colored glass, and lustrous gold.  Liberace would be green with envy.  
The bedazzled Grand Palace, Bangkok
The Grand Palace, Bangkok
The Grand Palace, Bangkok

If you want to live the good life in Thailand, it's fairly simple.  If you aren't the king (whose portrait is ubiquitous) or a foreigner possessing savings in a currency stronger than the baht, become a monk.  Of course, if you are female, forget monkhood. This is a boys only club.  Monastic life is commonplace in Thailand, and most Thai men are monks at some point. Indeed, one of the former kings of Thailand was a monk for over 20 years before he ascended the throne. Many male children are sent to monasteries to be educated, and some people consider men who have not been ordained or served as monks to be "unripe" for marriage.  

The perks of being a monk are manifold.  If you are a monk and a train station is packed with people, have no fear.  There is a special seating section for monks with ample space for you.  
Sign in Bangkok train station
You can often catch a quick ride (sometimes for free) on a songthaew.  There's a line for the bathroom?  No problem.  Monks get their own bathrooms, separate from men, women and lamers.

And when you pass away after having devoted your life to Buddhist mediation and good works, a silicone statue will be created in your exact likeness.  It's not a gold watch, but some might say it's better (and infinitely more unsettling).   
Plastic and eerily lifelike to a point that is creepy.
The following is an account of my top monk memory (TMM).  Our hotel in Chiang Mai was ideally situated; I came to think of it as the optimal triangle. It sat across the street from a beautiful temple, Wat Chedi Luang, and directly next to a well-stocked 7-Eleven.  It had become our custom to duck into any 7-Eleven we saw to buy Coke Slurpees, which for some inconceivable reason are not offered in Japan.  One night I was filling up and saw a novice monk, maybe 9 years old, who was awkwardly contorting his body  with his back to me.  It seemed strange, and had he not been a a novice monk, I probably would have investigated to see if he was trying to lift something from the store.  It wasn't until I made my way towards the register that I could see what the problem was.  In one small hand he had a wad of baht, and in his arms he was trying to cradle 2 large iced teas and 2 large Slurpees, none of which had tops.  He somehow managed to make his way to the cashier to pay (and have tops put on his drinks).  We looked at each other, checked out each others' Slurpees, and laughed.  

It feels good to know that monks are just like everyone else.  They drink juice boxes.  They arm wrestle with friends. They check their cell phones during prayer meetings when they think the adult monks aren't looking.  And apparently they make late night runs to 7-Eleven for Slurpees.  

This is a good life. 


Reclining Buddha, Bangkok
Reclining Buddha, Bangkok
Wat Chedi Luang, Chiang Mai
Long Live the King

Monday, April 22, 2013

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH THE IRON PHALLUS

Sometimes you set out on an adventure and at some juncture are tempted to turn back.  For me, that moment was as I was about to disembark a train packed with foreigners in Kawasaki, Japan and heard an American holding a sweating can of Asahi beer bellow down the car, "DICK FEST 2013!!"  

*    *    *

LAL and I had taken the long night bus to Tokyo with the wretchedly uncomfortable seats, intent on experiencing the magic of Tokyo Disneysea, bingeing on Chicago deep dish pizza and burritos, and attending a local festival, the Kanamara Matsuri.  

The matsuri derives inspiration from a myth, and the myth begins with a woman.  Before Lorena Bobbitt, there was a woman of Kawasaki who was cursed to have a demon residing in her nether regions.  This was somehow a non-issue until she got married and her husband attempted to consummate their union, whereupon the demon emasculated him.  Undeterred, the woman went on to marry another man, with the same results.  The future of her connubial bliss looked bleak, and in some other cultures she might have been consigned to being an old maid, or dispatched from this mortal plane altogether.  Instead, the local blacksmith took pity on the poor maid and forged an iron phallus to be inserted in her vajajay, at which point the demon chomped down and was pulled out by its teeth.  The woman went on to lead a happy life.  Female empowerment!
The piece de resistance, a modest five feet high. 

The festival that pays tribute to this tale is both a celebration of fertility and an opportunity for local prostitutes to pray for protection against sexually transmitted diseases and infections.  By some accounts, the proceeds from the matsuri go towards AIDS research.  Yet the real theme of the day isn't fertility or sexual health and education or philanthropy.  Rather, it seems to be: let's look at penises and buy penis memorabilia* and have awkward photos taken of ourselves with said phalluses.  Or better yet, let's take voyeuristic photos of other people, preferably scantily clad women.   
This young woman and her friends took turns posing on this terracotta penis with their penis lollipops as incredibly dodgy foreign men leered and took photos.  

This man had created his own penis helm so that people could take photos with him.   The foreigner on the right is attempting to lick the helmet.

There were some things that I couldn't explain: the cross-dressing men, the lone male foreigner in a deer costume with his girlfriend, or the parents who brought their toddlers. This last concern arose not so much out of Puritan values, but because of the sheer size of the crowds.  The temple grounds were relatively tiny, like a small childrens' playground, and people crammed into the area until it was impossible to navigate the throngs of people.  You simply had to give yourself over to the flow of the crowd and allow yourself to be swept along, but not without a lot of jostling and elbowed ribs and shoving.  Eventually it became too overwhelming, and LAL and I activated the escape hatch and headed back towards the train.  We were a little sorry to miss the procession of the iron phallus, but we managed to catch a glimpse of it as we were pushed through the exit. 

Though I'm glad we went, I would not feel the need to ever go again.  Whatever the underlying meaning of the event in the past, today it has been hijacked by a lot of loud, bro-ish foreigners.  Any indirect connection the festival may have had to female empowerment is long since gone.  It's entertaining, but the crowds make it impossible to enjoy even something as simple as people watching.  And yet I gained yet another story to regale my nephew with one day: the time his aunt went to the penis festival.  Hopefully it earns me cool points.
The "biggest" seller at the festival: the penis lollipop.
*T-shirts, erotic hand towels, pencil toppers, candles, candies, etc. 

Thursday, April 11, 2013

LIFE IS SWEET


Here's the lowdown on sugary confections in Japan: they are (predominantly) bland and expensive.  Unlike in the west where snacks, desserts and even drinks taste as though someone is trying to inject liquid cane sugar directly into your bloodstream, the Japanese use sweeteners sparingly for a more delicate flavor.  This is both a positive and a negative; while I appreciate not having my teeth ache with every bite, I'm disappointed that if I ordered two small slices of cake, one vanilla and one chocolate, they would taste exactly the same.  Moreover, each small piece would set me back about $5.  Granted, the cost is based partly on the fact that there is an artistry and sophistication of presentation that one doesn't typically see outside of a French patisserie.  However, I don't need to be awed by the beauty of something that I'm probably going to demolish in a matter of minutes (assuming that it is tasty).  

Every once in a while, though, you come across something outside the box of Japan's ubiquitous flavorings.  (For the record, they are: green tea, sweet red bean, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and chestnut.  Sometimes sweet potato or even pumpkin.) Tokyo's 100% Chocolate Cafe seems to have found the sweet spot in pairing Japanese sensibilities with adventurous flavors.  Owned and operated by the Meiji Corporation (which makes a number of products, including several varieties of chocolate and candy), they boast 56 different flavors of chocolate, using cacao from all over the world.  Some of the flavors have a Japanese spin, like kinako (toasted soybean flour, a nutty taste) or yes, green tea.  They also offer zanier options like chili, lemon salt, jasmine, etc.  

56 flavors of goodness
The cafe also provides a menu of cakes, parfaits, and chocolate drinks.  I had an incredibly airy chiffon cake (what some would call "angel food cake") covered in a chocolate and almond concoction that I can't quite name.  "Concoction" makes it sound off-putting, but actually it was delicious.  Very smooth, light, and not too rich, but with as intense a flavor as Nutella, with a thinner consistency.  

I'll be back in Tokyo in May, and I'll be waiting outside when the cafe opens, ready for my next fix.


Tokyo locations for 100% Chocolate Cafe:

Sumida-ku, Tokyo 1-1-2 push 
Tokyo Sky Tree Town Solamachi 4F 


and


Kyobashi, Chuo-ku, Tokyo 2-4-16
Meiji Kyobashi Building 1F 

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

MAIKO MAKEOVER

I've never been much of one for playing dress up, and my Halloween costumes have been traditionally lackluster. The only exceptions were ones where my mother made my costume and did my makeup or face paint.  My deficiency in creativity boils down to this: laziness.  The more involved the outfit, the less I want to wear it.  Yet I jumped at the chance to be dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono, which is a far more complicated process than shrugging on a bathrobe.  

First you have to find a kimono.  Many kimono are family heirlooms passed from generation to generation, valued at thousands of dollars.  However, you can also find cheaper kimono at second hand shops for as little as a few hundred dollars, though these are often of lesser quality and don’t include accoutrements like obi, the wide silk sash that is tied around the kimono, or geta, wooden sandals.  The cheapest kind of kimono is the yukata, a casual lightweight cotton robe worn in the summertime.  These run for as little as $30 (not including accessories), but they lack the gravitas and luxuriousness of the more formal silk kimono. 


Summer yukata.  From satoshi7.livejournal.com

For those of us not blessed with inherited kimono and who don’t have hundreds or thousands of dollars to buy one, there are other ways to get a kimono fix.  A panoply businesses in Japan cater to women who wish to dress up like a geisha.  Some Japanese tourist organizations offer opportunities to try on kimono, as do places like Toei Uzumasa Eigamura, a film set and theme park in Kyoto.  However, you can also have professional portraits taken at a studio, as I did.  This experience is popular among the Japanese as well as tourists; many young Japanese women have formal matchmaking portraits done, or to celebrate weddings, coming of age, or graduation.  Modern women come in and in just a few short hours are transformed into timeless geisha or maiko, apprentice geisha.*  

A small army of women is required to outfit someone in a kimono, but their efficiency is admirable.  In about an hour I was morphed from nondescript gaijin to resplendent maiko.  Still, it was quite an involved process.  I was asked to undress and then shrouded in a light cotton shift so that I could be sent to makeup, where a woman slathered cold white paint on my face neck, and shoulders, leaving only the nape of my neck exposed.  Even my eyebrows were drowned in white and drawn in again later on, followed by rouge, eyeliner, and vivid red paint on my lips.  At some point I was asked to make a tough decision: which kimono did I want to wear for the pictures?  The fifty or so options were a wide array of colors and patterns; once I had made my choice, the ladies started layering me like an onion. More light cotton robes, a corset-like contraption, a red and white collar, and finally, the kimono itself, which was far heavier than I had anticipated.  Tabi (white socks designed to give you a kind of ninja turtle cleft in your toes) were put on my feet, and a lacquered-looking wig placed on my head.  I was cinched in by the obi, which was so thick it could have acted as a plate of armor.  A device that looked like the headrest yanked from a car seat was shoved down the back of the obi, and the tail was arranged over it, almost like a bustle.  Now properly equipped for my close up, I tottered on the platformed geta, shuffling forward a little at a time, as my legs were constricted by the folds of the kimono.  The photographer posed me with different props, and fifteen minutes later, we were finished.  Back in the dressing room, the ladies whisked off all the layers, and I went to the sink to scrub off all the paint, resuming my normal appearance, from butterfly back to caterpillar.  

I admit that I was thrilled when a friend of mine showed these pictures to her Japanese coworker,  who inspected them and said that I could pass for Japanese.
You can see the exposed part of my neck in this shot; apparently Japanese men found this spot highly alluring. 

*The differences between geisha and maiko are subtle, and despite the renown of geisha outside of Japan, maiko are almost unknown.  Maiko are geisha in training, and study for years before they ascend to the level of geisha.  Maiko typically wear brighter colors and more ornaments in their hair.  The collars of their kimono are usually red with white or silver patterns, and their makeup is more vivid and noticeable.  Geisha are women trained in traditional Japanese arts like music, dance, and tea ceremony.  They are also skilled hostesses, adept at making conversation and entertaining guests (though not sexually- geisha are not prostitutes).  Geisha wear subdued colors and relatively little makeup.  Their kimono have shorter sleeves, and they tie their obi differently, making the obi shorter than the way the maiko wear them.    This website has a fairly excellent summation of the differences between geisha and maiko.

AYA maiko experience, Kyoto
605-0825 499,Shimogawara ,Gion, Higashiyama-Ku , Kyoto-Shi JAPAN
TEL:+81-75-532-6666 / FAX: +81-75-532-6667
E-mail:info@kyoto-maiko.com